Shadow Behind The Mask
by Madame de'Neige
Summary: Felix Kjellberg was a rather lonely man after his girlfriend, Marzia, dumped him. Well, he honestly didn't know what to do with his life until a depressed and equally lonely man saved his life one day. Felix doesn't know anything about him, and craves to know more. They are being hunted, and Felix needs to see what's behind the physical and emotional mask. (No pairing, sorry.)
1. Chapter 1: They Meet

-Chapter 1: They Meet

I've always been a bystander. Just an observer. Watching the world go by while I waited for death to welcome me into the deep, dark, abyss. To feel the cold wrap around me as I'm swallowed into the clutches of eternal slumber. I didn't have aspirations. No dreams. No purpose. No reason to live.

My life is meaningless. I should have never been born. All I do is waste precious oxygen. My psychiatrist says otherwise, though. I keep my distance from people because I'm afraid if I get too close to someone, I would just get hurt. No one really cares for anyone else. I've experienced that kind of pain once, and I don't intend on making the same mistakes.

I may think that way, but I long to have friends. Someone to talk to, laugh with, and maybe even cry with. I cry a lot. I don't know why, it just happens. I'd get these urges and curl up into a ball in the corner of the room just so that I can cry my eyes out for the next hour, maybe longer.

I'm just waiting. Watching everything unravel in front of me. I'm a shut-in. No one could ever possibly understand me. My real feelings. I'm so very lonely. It's so painful. So cold and dark. I don't think I'll ever escape the darkness. If there's a way out, I want to know because I can't take it anymore.

I've always thought the same thing. I'm worthless. I have no purpose. If I died right now, who would care? Would anyone know? Would anyone cry over my grave? Probably not. I've thought all of this to be the truth. Well, that is, until I killed someone.

He was a young man. He seemed to be assaulting another person. A person who seemed to be the kind with those waiting for him to come back home. What would happen if _he_ were gone? Would someone cry? Probably. They'd be lonely. They'd be like me. The thought was enough to make my blood boil.

How could someone possibly force the cold, the dark, the loneliness, the _suffering, _upon another human being? I immediately ran to the two men and punched the guy in the face. He fell to the ground.

"Wha...?" he asked in confusion. He saw me standing there, in a ready stance with both fists clenched. Ready to repeat my action if need be. "How dare you..." I whispered. "What was that?" he said.

"HOW DARE YOU!" I yelled this time. He got up. "It's easy, really. Although not as easy as _this_!" he replied. His face contorted into a twisted, sick smile and he raised a dagger from within his jacket and lunged toward me. I managed to dodge the first attack and he ended up slashing at the air.

I then came up behind him and flashed my own sinister grin. "Surprise," I whispered and before he could turn around I grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay in his position if he didn't want me to break it.

I then realized that the dagger was in the other hand and his smile widened. He reached behind him and slashed at my chest. The side of my torso had a minor gash in it. Nothing too serious. I wasn't worried about that.

The man stabbed at me from every angle. When he had finally stopped, I had a few more cuts on my face, chest, legs, and right arm. There was a rather large wound on my shoulder. Almost like he was trying to cut my arm off, but I wasn't done with him.

The smile never left my face. "What are you grinning about? I'm the one who's about to kill ya," with that, he ran toward me but slower than the other times. I knew it. I tired him out. He tried to stab me, but I dodged it and punched him in the face with my good arm. "Gotta be quicker than that," I teased.

I ran towards him and grabbed the dagger. I was behind him, so my first reflex was to stab him. The knife went through his back with a horrifyingly sick sound. "Gotcha," I said quietly into his ear. He screamed in pain. It seemed that everyone was avoiding the situation because no one even cared about the scream. Not a single person displayed even an ounce of concern or curiosity. I guess that's a good thing.

He fell to the floor and I kneeled next to him, enjoying the sound of his breath slowing down and becoming more ragged. He was struggling to keep his heart beating. I hit something vital, good for me. I willed his heart to stop completely when I shoved the knife through his chest, ultimately ending his life. Just to be sure, though, I quickly lodged the knife through his head, making it futile for him to ever wake up from his state of dreamless sleep.

Night had fallen, and I stood up. I looked down at his body. Would killing him bring about a sense of loneliness to anyone else? Probably not. Some one who would assault an unarmed pedestrian wouldn't have a family. Or anyone. He was probably like me in a sense that we were both lonely. Anticipating death's arrival. Waiting for the end. Well, he got his wish.

Then the thought hit me with full force. Killing him. I just killed a man. Brutally. Several stab wounds which happened at some point in our fight. I had a rather serious injury on my right shoulder, and there was a witness curled up right across from me in a corner. He saw most of it. Even in the dark of night I could see his cobalt blue eyes looking at me. Staring. Burning craters in my entire body. His blonde hair was messy and his face displayed bruises with a heck of a story to tell.

My face, however, was covered in hair. My hair was also matted down and sticking to my face. He couldn't see what I looked like. He could only see my oceanic blue eyes gazing back at him. He was scared, I noticed, when I saw him shaking. I could see that he didn't watch the whole fight because his focus wasn't on the body. He was afraid of me, not his original attacker.

We held the eye contact for what seemed like hours but was only mere minutes before he spoke up, clearing his throat first. "D-did you kill him?"

I nodded. "Thank you... You saved me." He seemed less afraid now.

"Who are you?" he asked me, looking up at me through his fringe. I don't know if I should really tell him. I mean, I can't afford to be close to anyone. "My name isn't important right now," I stated, still keeping my gaze locked firmly with his. "Oh my god. Your arm...! It's- It's hurt," he gasped, seeing the gash I had on my shoulder.

I looked down at my shoulder, the pain has subsided and I didn't feel anything in my entire arm anymore. "It doesn't really hurt, it's just injured. I can't feel it. At all. Really," I tried reassuring him, failing.

"That's even worse!" He stood up and walked toward me. The gash is visible because my shirt ripped.

He checked it out, "Uh-huh, I can fix this. It seems that you aren't losing anymore blood but I still need to stitch it and wrap it up." I thanked him but declined politely. "No, thanks. I can do it. I just need to get home."

I started to walk away but he grabbed my wrist which stretched it out. I winced and gasped in pain. "God, that hurt." He apologized and continued insisting that I should go with him.

"Please? It's the least I could do to repay you for protecting me. Er, saving me. I- I don't really know what would have happened if you had hadn't saved me." I reluctantly agreed and he started walking forward, still grasping my arm tightly.

"Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself? You've received quite the beating as well," I said, gesturing to his bruised and bloody face. He stopped and nodded, "I'll do that after I help you," he said and kept walking.

He almost tripped over the attacker's body. Oh yeah, I forgot about that. "Wait... Before we do anything else, what are we gonna do about him? I mean, we can't just leave him here... Can we?" he mulled it over. "Sure we can, no one saw anything. We can just hide the evidence," I suggested, sounding like I've done this all my life. Man, I was not proud of how calm I was being. "Wow, you really do sound like a criminal..." he said. "I know, but we don't really have any other choice now, do we?" I replied walking toward the body.

I told him to grab the arms and I grabbed the legs. The entire place was deserted and I could tell that people were avoiding coming near here. We grabbed the body and took it to a near-by place where people stowed their trash. We dropped it there, he looked like a homeless man who was killed by some random stranger. I have a feeling that's what he was. Maybe he was just a homeless man on the brink of death, assaulting innocent people in his spare time because that's all he had left. Thinking he could gain something.

Would we get in trouble? I don't know. Did I care? Not really. All I knew was that I had just saved another man's life and now I'm going to his house. How did I get myself so deep into this mess? Usually, in these situations, I would just walk faster and pretend that the thought of helping the person had never crossed my mind.

There was something about this man, though, that made it different. I don't know how, but this situation bothered me more than most. I want to know more about this person, but I refuse to expose myself to him. I just want to learn about him, I refuse to let him get to know me. It's kind of weird.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, I suggest we go home and never turn back." When I started walking away, he tugged at the sleeve of my good arm. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" I nodded. "Are you positive that I can't know your name?" I nodded again. "Well, if it makes any difference, I'm Pewdiepie," I smiled.

"Pewdiepie, huh? I have a feeling that's not your real name. I think I've heard it before, though. Try all you want, though, I won't tell you mine." He sighed.

"Worth a shot."

"Well, for now, you can just call me..." I thought about it, "Cryaotic. Cry's fine, too," I answered, quite impressed with my alias. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Cry." He held his hand out as I let him lead me to his house. "Nice to meet you, too, Sir Pewdiepie."

And it was in that instance, when my hand connected with his, that I had the feeling this guy was gonna change my entire life.

~At Pewdiepie's house~

It took everything I had to keep from screaming when Pewdie put pressure and alcohol on my open wounds. He told me he was going to have to stitch them all. When he told me take off my shirt, he gasped softly.

"What? Is it that bad?" I took a look at my bare chest and it was my turn to gasp. I suddenly started wondering why I hadn't died of blood loss yet. I mean, with this many stab wounds and gashes, one would have already passed out at least, right?

I, on the other hand, kept fighting. I felt fine, just a little sting. Pewdie finished. He had stitched my wounds while I kept thinking about the fact that I was a murderer.

I killed a man, and the worst part is... I actually enjoyed it. I gave me a sort of rush. It was exhilarating. I knew that I should stop thinking about it and probably get in the shower. Wash off all the blood.

I stood up and asked Pewdie if I could use his bathroom and he nodded pointing up the stairs. "Down the hall, second door on the left," he explained. I nodded, walking down and following his instructions on where to go. Before I could enter, I remembered that I had no clothes.

"Pewdie!" There was a slight pause.

"Yeah?" he answered, finally.

"I didn't bring any clothes... Can I, uh... Maybe borrow some?"

"Sure, they'll be laid out on the bed in the guest room. The next room down on the right." I heard shuffling and Pewdie walking up the stairs.

I closed the door to the bathroom and locked it just in case. Then I quickly undressed, not wanting him to wait for me. I hate that. It's the most uncomfortable feeling ever, being waited on. Even if that person were to be somewhere else, you can still feel their eyes on you. Watching every move you make and trying to usher you into being quicker.

I stepped into the shower after letting the water warm up a little, enjoying the stream of water hitting my head and running down my back. I don't know how long I was in there, but it was enough time for my mind to drift off to my family.

My family... Murdered by the psychopath I call my father. He shot my mother, my brother, and himself. The only reason he spared my life was because he wanted me to suffer, to live with the memory, he wanted me to die, but not by his hand. He hated me most of all...

When the shower was over, I stepped out and used a towel that was on the counter. I hope Pewdie won't mind.

When I was finished drying off, I opened the door and scurried down to the next door on the right. Just as he said, some pajamas were laid out on the bed, but another thing caught my eye... It was a mask. Made out of plastic. It was white with a poker face painted onto it. The thing that mostly stood out, though, was the antenna that seemed to come off it in a curl and never stood straight.

I decided to put it on because it seemed like it took a lot to make it and if he went through all that trouble, why not tend to his wishes? I wondered just how long it took him to make the mask and why. Was I really in the shower for that long? Was it because he could sense that I didn't want to show my face? It seemed that my face was the most scarred place on my body after the fight.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I loved the mask. It really kept me anonymous. I pulled it up to look at my scars. One that I thought was distinct was the biggest scar on my face, it ran from the top of my eyebrow, down my eyelids to my cheek. Pewdie never treated the scars on my face because I didn't want my face seen, so it was still fresh. I put a hand on it and realized that it was still stinging. A lot.

I gasped in pain. How had I not noticed that? As a matter of fact, why hadn't that killed me? I certainly had too many scars to have been able to live.

I chuckled slightly, "Am I even human?"

I pulled the mask back down. I've only had it for five minutes, but I can tell that this mask is special. It gives me a sense of security. Makes me feel safe. It helps me keep up the foundation around myself. Hiding my physical scars as well as my psychological ones.

I walked back into the living room and sat next to Pewdiepie who was looking out the window. It had begun to rain and tiny droplets clung to the glass, some sinking down and others merging with each other. Rain had always been my favorite weather, even as a child. I would always pull a chair next to the window and sit there, elbows propped up on the window pane and my hands under my chin. Pretending the drops of water were racing. It was entertaining. Sometimes, when it was alright with my mother, I would go outside and sit on the ground. The rain calmed and soothed me.

Now, it makes me happy, if only momentarily. Sitting in my house, looking out the window, doing the same thing I used to do all those years ago. Taking me back to simpler times before everything in my life was destroyed.

"I think I'm going to go to bed..." Pewdie's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "Alright, then. Um, thanks again for letting me borrow the clothes," I answered him.

"You're welcome. You can sleep in the guest room. Goodnight," he said as he walked away to what I assumed was his room. Leaving me to become buried in my own thoughts and memories.

~Pewdiepie~

As I had finished cleaning Cry's wounds, I noticed he was sort of spaced out. It's amazing how he was able to stay up. He hadn't even showed any signs of pain or anything. It's like he's inhumane.

He wore a mask of indifference upon his face, which I noticed was still covered by his hair. It seems he doesn't feel comfortable revealing his identity. That was fine with me, I don't need to know who he is. At least, for now.

When I finished, he stood up and asked if he could use my shower. He was covered in blood. I agreed and told him where to go. When he walked away, I thought about how I was going to gain his trust. I then thought about how he didn't want me to see his face. I think I should make him a mask. He won't feel the need to cover up any more.

"Pewdie!" Cry's voice distracted me when I was making the blue-prints in my mind. I had gotten a white, blank mask. Come to think of it, why do I even have this? Then I remembered Cry.

"Yeah?" I answered, after a bit of a pause.

"I didn't bring any clothes... Can I, uh... Maybe borrow some?" He asked me, hesitantly.

"Sure, they'll be laid out on the bed in the guest room. The next room down on the right." I put the stuff down and started walking past the bathroom. I got out some of my pajamas and laid them out on the guest room bed.

Then I quietly walked back into the living room and decided to draw a poker face on the mask. I drew two plain black circles around the eye-holes and an equally plain black line for the mouth. Then I took a bit of wire and attached it to the top, making it come off in a curl. I set it down in the guest room, on top of the clothes I laid out for him. I hope he likes it.

I sat back down in the living room and noticed that it started raining. Rain, my least favorite weather. It's so gloomy and dark. It reminds me of the time that Marzia left me. I don't know why, she just said that she needed a break. She said that she didn't know if she was going to come back but that day was when I lost all hope.

I felt the other side of the couch sink in and I knew Cry was sitting next to me. A glance over my shoulder confirmed my suspicions that he was wearing my mask. That means a lot.

After about half an hour of watching the drops of water trail down the window, I stood up and decided to go to bed. "You can sleep in the guest room. Goodnight," I told him as I walked out of the room.

I went to my room and closed the door. After changing into my own pajamas, I turned the light off and crawled into bed. It took about an hour for me to fall asleep, thoughts of Marzia and the mysterious man behind the mask, who I now know as Cryaotic.


	2. Chapter 2: The search

-Chapter 2-

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Who did it?"

"We can't be sure about that."

Large, calloused hands gripped the phone until the man's knuckles were white. James Van Morris was the leader of a gang which was now one member short. He had just received the news.

"We'll have to perform a DNA test to find out who killed him. There's a lot of blood here. I think I should bring more than one sample from different puddles, there could have been more than one person in on this."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He rubbed his forehead.

"What is it, Boss?" his gunman asked, clearly oblivious.

"We don't have the equipment, you idiot!" James yelled into the blue landline phone.

"Well, what are we gonna do?" the man on the other end of the call said, a little more cautious of how he chose his words.

James rubbed his forehead again, brainstorming. "I don't know, Toni."

"Well, I'm still bringing the samples and we're gonna dispose of his body. Just in case we figure out how to find the guy or guys," Toni insisted and then hung up.

The dial tone echoed in James' head until he finally put the phone back onto the receiver, his anger more intense than ever. He had lost one of his best men. Why was his man targeted, anyway? A rival gang? Was the idiot trying to do something drastic outside of the job? Did he put up a good fight?

All of these questions ran though James' head until he decided that he needed a break. He decided to go home. If he was called in for work, so be it, but he wasn't staying in his office all day.

He wanted to go home to his wife and his dog, Biscuit. He thought it was a pretty stupid name although his wife, Selene, insisted on it.

As he was putting on his jacket, his phone rang. This time, however, it was his cell. Not the landline on the table. He picked it up and flipped it open.

"Hello, James Van Morris speaking," he greeted in a formal tone.

"James?" A voice he recognized as Scott, another one of his gunmen, rang out through the other line.

"What is it, Scott?" he asked, exaggerating his exhausted state.

"We've got the blood samples and I think I know where we can get the equipment to do the test," Scott replied.

"Really? Where?" That caught his full attention.

"There's a lab not too far from here that I 'overheard' someone talking about. I think we can sneak in there to find the equipment. Wear gloves so that no fingerprints are found, and we can get out before anyone notices."

"That was fast, but good job. It's not really the most careful plan, though. I mean, sneaking into a lab is pretty difficult to do without leaving a trace, but we don't have any other choices at the moment. Okay, unless something better is suggested, we'll do it tomorrow night."

With that, he hung up and walked out of his office. He got into his polished, black Mercedes-Benz and drove off in the direction of his house.

He was done with work for today.

When Pewdie woke up, the sun was gleaming through the window and the light annoyed him as he tried to adjust to it. Once he finally got used to it, he clambered out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he went back to his room and decided to change.

Once he got dressed, he walked downstairs into the living room. He was surprised to see that Cryaotic actually fell asleep on couch.

His mask was slightly shifted off of his face. It took everything that Pewdie had to not lift it up and look at Cry's face. Instead, he grabbed Cry's shoulder and shook him a bit.

"Wake up!" he yelled.

"Wha...? What happened?" Cry tiredly rubbed his eyes and looked around. Pewdie could feel the way that he tensed up as he realized he wasn't in his own home. When he looked up to Pewdie, however, he calmed down a bit.

"Oh. Yeah, that happened."

"What happened?" Pewdie asked, confused.

"You know..." Cry said, looking down and adjusting his mask.

"Oh, yeah. _That._" Pewdie looked down as well.

Cry got off of the couch and looked at Pewdie. Cryaotic saw that he had already put on some clothes.

"Going somewhere? I mean, if I were you, I would even be wearing pants right now," Cry joked, gaining a laugh from Pewdie.

"I would love to rip my pants off and chill on the couch, but you're here and that'd be a bit awkward." Cry agreed and asked for clothes for himself. Pewdie led him upstairs to his room and grabbed a bro-fist shirt. He also grabbed a pair of skinny jeans. He knew Cry was his size because of how well Pewdie's pajamas fit on him.

"Thanks," Cry said, walking off toward the bathroom. After about three minutes, he walked out wearing the clothes.

"Hey, where have I heard of a 'Bro-fist' before?" Cry asked, thinking of anywhere he might have heard that term.

"Um... It's kind of my trademark," Pewdie mentioned.

"Trademark? Are you, like, famous or something?" Pewdie nodded sheepishly.

"Haven't you ever heard of Pewdiepie?" he asked, finding it slightly amusing.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't really think anything of the connection," said Cry.

Pewdiepie led Cry to his computer, typed in his URL and clicked on his next-to-latest video. His latest video was of him telling his fans about why Marzia left him. While Cry watched, laughing and chuckling occasionally at Pewdie's reactions and jokes, Pewdiepie's mind wandered off to Marzia. The day she left him replayed in his mind.

_She had left him on a rainy day. It wasn't raining lightly, it was pouring. Pewds was on the internet, watching some videos, editing here and there. Marzia walked up to him._

_"Felix, I think we need to talk," she had said._

_"About?" he asked, taking his headphones off. They hadn't been playing anything at the moment, he just liked to have them on._

_"Us. We need to have a talk about our relationship," was her reply._

_"Wh-why?" In the back of his mind, Pewdie knew the answer to the question, he just didn't want to admit it to himself._

_"Because, you've been spending too much time with your bros and not enough time with me!" she said. "And if that isn't fixed, then I'm gonna have to leave you, Felix. I can't just keep sitting back and pretend it doesn't bother me!"_

_Felix stood up and replied, "Marzia. I can't just leave my bros hanging. You know that. I mean, I know I spend a lot of time on the computer, but I can still spend time with you, I promise!"_

_"No, Felix. I know your Bros have high expectations for you, being the most subscribed channel on YouTube and all, but you can't just be spending all your time on these things. You'll over-work yourself. You either need to cut down on your YouTube and internet time, or I'm gonna have to leave you."_

_Pewdie looked down, "You know I can't just leave them like that. A lot of Bros look forward to my videos and I don't want to let them down. Maybe I can just do vlogs while I'm with you. Please, Marzia. I don't want to let you go," he suggested, hoping that Marzia would agree._

_"That wouldn't be much different than making videos. I don't want every day we spend together and every date to be documented. I'll just let you have some time to think about it. I don't know when I'll come back. But I will. For now," a few tears spilled and ran down her cheeks, "Goodbye, Felix. If it's worth anything, I still love you."_

_"N-no! Please, Marzia! Don't leave! I love you, too!" Felix pleaded, crying as well, but it was too late._

_She was already on her way out the door._

"Hello? Felix?" Cry waved a hand in front of Pewdie's face as he was snapped out of his thoughts.

Pewdie realized what Cry had just said and looked at him in surprise. "I don't remember ever telling you my name. How do you know it?"

"You were kinda spaced out so I clicked on a Happy Wheels video. You were taking a 'Pewdiepie quiz' and you said your name," Cry admitted.

"Oh. Alright, then. So, do you think I'm funny?" Felix said, kind of let down that Cry knew his name but he didn't know Cry's.

"I do. I can see why you're the most subscribed channel on YouTube. Ya know, I've wanted to create a YouTube channel for quite some time. Playing games on YouTube could probably be something to bring me out of my slump. It's not a dream or a goal, but I want to do it as a hobby of sorts. Maybe we can play video games together sometime," Cry suggested, shrugging.

"Yeah, sure. Right now I just want something to eat." Pewdie's stomach growled. Cry chuckled and started walking toward the kitchen.

"What do you want to eat?" Cry asked, looking around, kind of feeling bad for imposing. "Oh, I don't know- PANCAKES!" Pewdie yelled and ran into the kitchen lightly pushing Cryaotic to the side, who gave off a few small giggles as he watched Pewdie rummage through his ingredients and dropping things.

Cry's high-pitched giggles soon escalated into full-scale laughs as Felix dropped flour and water then tripped, falling over while trying to pick it up. He squirmed around, trying to get up. Cryaotic soon doubled over, clutching his sides. "Oh, my God! Pewdie, stop! I'm dying over here!" Cry said, between gasps of laughter.

Pewdie was finally able to get up, using the counter for support. He dusted himself off and then huffed. "Oh, man! My clothes are so dirty!" he shrieked. Cry's laughter had died down. "When did you become such a woman?" he teased. Pewdie raised his voice a few pitches and started talking in a very posh accent. "Why, excuse me, but that is very sexist and I will not stand for it! Hmph!" he turned around, walking upstairs in the direction of his room. Cry just kept laughing, starting on the pancakes.

Pewdie came back with a blue bro-fist shirt and another pair of skinny jeans. "Now we match!" he exclaimed as he entered the kitchen. "Pewds, I'm seriously wondering if you have mental issues," Cry laughed. He asked Pewdie to get two plates and then served the pancakes once they were done.

"These look awesome! Thanks, Cry," Pewdie got some utensils and handed some to Cry. Once he took his first bite his eyes lit up. "They taste even better than they look!" he yelled with a mouthful of pancakes.

"Thank you," Cry replied, now halfway done with his. Once they were all done Pewdie did the dishes while Cry cleaned the mess he had made.

"So do you wanna play video games now?" Cry asked, wiping his forehead once they were done. Pewdie nodded and put his kitchen rag away. He suggested they play a horror game, so they decided to look through his Xbox games. They decided to play BioShock 2.

"Really?" When they had finished playing, Pewdie suggested watching some TV and was surprisingly excited when he saw Adventure Time.

"JAKE THE DOG AND FINN THE HUMAN! THE FUN WILL NEVER END, IT'S ADVENTURE TIME!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, standing up and dancing around like an idiot. "Pewdie, you're such a five-year-old. Come on, Man."

"You don't believe in the righteous power that is Adventure Time!" Felix argued. "No, I don't," Cry replied, but sat down to watch it anyway. By the end of the episode, and the beginning of the next one, Cry was singing the theme song along with Pewdie. "Now I see what you mean," he said.

They sat back onto the couch and watched television for a few more hours. When they had both gotten hungry, they just decided to order some pizza. The pizza arrived and they both cheered as they got up to pay. They enjoyed some more video games while eating.

Finishing the food, they decided that it was pretty late.

"Wow, today was probably the laziest day I've ever had. TV, pancakes, pizza, and video games all day was actually pretty awesome," Cry said.

"You know, you're really cool, Cry. I really appreciate this, I've been feeling kind of alone lately ever since my girlfriend broke up with me. So thanks, this was nice," Pewdie pulled Cry in for a hug. Cry cringed at the sudden contact, but relaxed. "I know what you mean, I was pretty lonely too, ever since, um... Never-mind. I had a lot of fun, too. Thanks, Pewds."

Pewdie looked at Cry in confusion. "What were you going to say?" Pewdie asked. "Oh, nothing important," was Cry's answer. He told Pewdie he needed to go home. "What for? You can stay here, you know."

"I know, I just need to get home now." Pewdie nodded in understanding. "We can still hang out from time-to-time, right?" Pewdie asked, hopefully. "Yeah, sure."

Cry lay down on his back, clutching the empty bottle of anti-depressants. "I need to get some more of these," he stated. He put the bottle back on his nightstand and rolled over. He put his hand on his head, his mind drifting off to what Pewdie had said.

Pewdie offered to walk Cry back home, even though he didn't know where Cry lived so Cry had to lead him there. "Thanks, Pewds," Cry said as they arrived at his front door.

"No problem, what are friends for?" he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

That made Cry tense up. Friends? Were they really that close? How had Cry not noticed? God, he wasn't ready to trust Felix completely yet.

_What should I do? I don't know, maybe he was kidding. I mean, he hasn't even seen my face! Jeez, I should have realized this sooner._

Cry sighed. _Maybe it'd be best if I found someone to call a friend. I need to learn to trust people. If I don't my depression's gonna get worse. I don't want to be lonely anymore._

Cry thought about how much Felix was crying in the break-up video. He didn't want to bring it up, but he watched it while Felix was spaced out, right before the Happy Wheels video. Felix's heart was broken, but his heart broke a little as well seeing him cry like that.

Cry got up and out of bed and he had decided to watch a Walking Dead play-through. He skipped a few episodes as he had actually played the game himself and knew what was in store.

He watched the last episode and had to take off his mask to wipe his tears. The scar under his eye really stung because of how rough he rubbed at his face. "Ow!" he winced. He frowned, realizing he couldn't do anything about it. It was a scar, after all.

When the episode was over, he turned his computer off and walked to his dresser. He put his mask on it and decided to go to bed. He got out some pajamas from the bottom drawer and took his clothes off. When he put his pajamas on, he jumped onto his bed. He looked at the bright screen on his phone.

There, in plain black letters were the words, "Pewdiepie (Felix)." He smiled at the contact remembering how he and Pewdie had exchanged numbers. That was one of two in his phone. One for Pewdie, the other was his old friend Scott's number. He hasn't had any contact with Scott for a few years, but he couldn't bring himself to delete it.

He put his phone on his nightstand right next to the empty pill bottle and drifted off to sleep.

Felix lay in bed, Marzia on his mind. _I don't know what to do. Why is this such a hard decision?_

He wondered what was going to become of their relationship. She said she'd come back, but she didn't know when. Neither did Felix. It was actually eating away at him.

When Marzia left, he was all alone. He couldn't do anything. Loneliness was an understatement used to describe the pain that he went through. After all the days he spent hollowed up in his house, he decided to take a walk.

Felix placed a hand upon the bruise on his cheek. That was the day he met Cryaotic. The day he became attached to a murderer. Until Marzia comes back, Cry is the only person that he has in this world. Without him, he'd be truly alone again.

"I wish I could see his face. I really want to know who he is," Felix mumbled into his pillow. He decided that he was just gonna go to sleep. Maybe chill with Cry again tomorrow.

"Goodnight," he said. Even though there was no one to respond to him.


End file.
